Chapter Nineteen #2
My muscles lock rigid as he brings the sword up in a lightning-fast arc, without a word.
The Enchantra on his chest flashes, the pale blue light illuminating the blade , and the Fae’s head is cleanly sliced from his body.
As it rolls across the grass—his body slumping forwards, blood spraying in hot arcs into the earth below—cheers ring out throughout the camp, and bile rises to my throat.
Then he’s walking towards Heller. I can’t let this happen. I go to rise, but strong hands clamp down on my shoulders, and an Equitae behind me pushes me back to my knees.
Heller knows what’s coming—tears well in my eyes as I watch him fight for his life—an Equitae jumping forwards to wrestle him to the ground, Heller screaming out a roar of protest.
“You bastard,” he spits, the insult vibrating with a raw, unhinged fury. His face burns a dark, heated red, his features contorting until he’s almost unrecognizable under the weight of his rage.
Reth stares coldly at his outburst, and as he raises the sword, I let out a scream.
“Leave him!” I buckle under the pressure of the Equitae holding me, trying to break free, but his strong arms come down, holding my own by my side, and I can’t move.
“Oh, does the Princess have herself a boyfriend?” Reth chuckles, smirking over to me. My lip curls back from my teeth. My jaw clenches so hard it aches. His words bite deep, and I thrash against the iron grip pinning me, throwing my weight forwards with everything I have left.
In slow motion, I watch Reth lift his arm, the blade cutting through the air as it arcs down towards Heller.
I flinch and hate myself for looking down as another cheer rises from the Equitae.
When I look back up, Heller’s body is slumped over, rich red liquid spraying from the bloody stump where his head had been.
Reth is walking towards me and my heart slams against my ribs.
Blood roars in my ears, muffling everything to a dull throb.
Each breath comes shallow and quick. When he reaches me, he crouches down.
Heller’s head dangles from Reth’s fist, blond hair twisted in his grip.
Those blue eyes—once so alive—stare at nothing. My stomach lurches, twisting violently.
“Would you like to kiss him goodbye?” Reth says, sneering. I pull back, and I retch, whatever small morsels they had fed me splashing to the grass below.
“No? Well, I’m sure I can find a much better use for it.” His voice is low, cold, and deeply menacing.
Horror and disgust curdle in my belly, twisting and churning. The nausea rises in waves, each one stronger than the last, and I’m sick again—violently, helplessly sick—when I force myself to look up. I feel my eyes must have betrayed me, drawn to a scene I desperately want to unsee.
Reth holds Heller’s head firmly to his groin, his fingers tangled in Heller’s hair, and thrusts with deliberate, cruel force.
The worst part isn’t even the act itself—it’s the laughter.
The sound of those around us, celebrating his depravity like spectators at some twisted show, their voices rising in encouragement and amusement.
Each laugh is a knife, each cheer another wound, and I feel myself breaking apart as I witness this horror unfold.
I hear a thud and a hiss, and when I look back up, he has thrown the head into the fire.
Domanikk joins us and lays his hand on Reth’s forearm, the one holding the sword.
“Wait, Reth,” he whispers, “she could be useful to us.”
Reth’s eyes shoot to Domanikk. His jaw tightens, a muscle jumping in his cheek.
“She’s Earthbound, just like the rest of them dirty fuckers,” he says through clenched teeth.
“Remember what I told you about the Ballroom attack? And she could be good leverage with the King.”
Reth pauses and looks down at me again. My hands are shaking. I press them flat against my thighs until the trembling stops. I lift my chin—just enough—and force my eyes up to meet his.
“Don’t you dare give them that.” I imagine Kiernan’s voice, as if he is with me. “Whatever they take from you, don’t give them your spirit.”
I hold his gaze. My jaw aches from clenching. Every muscle screams to look away, to curl inward, to make myself small.
I don’t.
His mouth twitches and eyebrows raise as he continues to stare, as if searching my eyes for an answer.
“Plus,” Domanikk adds, “she didn’t even get a decent wedding night. We can’t let the Princess die without a decent fuck.”
Reth laughs at that. Heat floods my face, burning from my neck to my hairline.
“If we do this, Dom, then you’re responsible for her. I don’t want her running loose in Heartwood. And keep her out of my way.”
Domanikk’s smirk slides towards me, slow and deliberate. I want to recoil, to put distance between us, but my body locks in place—frozen under the weight of what his words promise. I’m not going to die today.
Reth turns back to the gathered Equitae and, with a last sneer towards me, walks away.
“Anyone touches her while she’s here, I’ll cut your fucking hands off and make you wear them as a necklace.”